Ancient Delight
by SaucyJacky88
Summary: One of many books I am in the process of working on. Just wanted to get a feel of how the reading audience would react to them. Thank all of you who give anything I write a shot! XOXO Feel free to give me private messages about reviews!
1. Prologue

Prologue

_The Wilds of Montana_

Running through the forests of Montana, the young male ducked under low branches as he fought to stay ahead of his pursuer. His feet crunched the snow under his boots as they carried him as fast as his legs could move.

He had to get away. Had to get as far from his home as possible or they would find him and make him admit to everything he'd done.

His mind flashed back to his beloved cabin. Seeing the ruined truck, the path of blood leading from the big vehicle up his porch and into his house, where the tortured and gutted remains of his friends lay about the wooden furniture. Parts of them hung up like animals because of him, slit open and tortured because he just couldn't get enough.

As he rounded a tree, he stopped to catch his breath, and keep the vomit in his stomach, when he heard the snapping of branches next to him. Pulling a knife out of his coat, he swallowed and jumped out around the heavy slab of bark.

A large elk bellowed at him before trotting off into the snow covered distance.

The male sighed, tension thrumming through his body, "Damn wildlife."

A throaty growl echoed from behind him, making his body tight and kicking his senses into overdrive. Shouting in fear, he swung his blade at the assailant only to howl in pain when his wrist was gripped firmly. The vice squeezed tighter and he dropped the knife before his wrist snapped under the strain. Gnashing his teeth, he gazed up into the eyes of a being he never thought he would ever come face to face with.

He stared, wide eyed in shock at the killer before him, "You, you are...please don't kill me," he begged, "Please, I didn't know what else to do. They wouldn't let me do anything else. They wouldn't let me go. I've wanted out for so long." He shook his head as he began sobbing, "Please don't do this. I won't do it again, I swear it."

The cloaked being regarded him calmly, coldly, "Who are you working for?"

That voice sent chills coasting over his skin and he shook his head, sobbing worse, "He never showed his face. I just get letters in the mail, unmarked, with instructions. They never gave me a choice, please."

The figure pushed weight against his injured wrist, forcing him to kneel in the freezing snow. The other hand of his executioner lifted and pushed back the cowl on the robe, letting him see the face of his fate.

As he stared into the crystal blue eyes he had heard stories about as a child, he couldn't stop his body from quaking with fear and grief.

"I'm sorry," he breathed into the air, the sobs wracking his body.

His executioner reached out, running the backs of leather covered fingers over his chilled cheek in a way that seemed at odds with the coldness of the ancient in front of him. "So am I," the voice said before everything went black with the snap of his neck.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

New Orleans, Louisiana

_Praise the Gods this cannot be happening. _

Standing behind his massive desk, Victor Margule leaned on the heavy slab as he listened to the police commissioner on the other end of the line. The commissioner, like himself, was part of a species that some depicted as extinct or even along the lines of the supernatural. Which was true, mostly, and the fact that such a creature was calling him about the death of a bunch of humans wasn't exactly awe inspiring.

Victor sighed, "Alex, can you just get to the point? I have enough paperwork to do without dealing with humans in the mix."

There was a grunt over the phone, "Well alright, the deaths are all connected given the appearance of the victims, and I personally believe that one of our side is stepping on toes and trying to press boundaries."

Aggravated, Victor ran a hand over his face, "Has anyone else in the station connected anything?"

"Not a one, all of them believe the case was closed and that there is a copycat running around killing the newer victims," his longtime friend sighed over the line, "Normally, such a thing wouldn't be a problem. I'd call you, you'd have your boys take care of it and poof, and it would be like it never happened. However, the thing that is tearing apart these girls knows what it's doing. No scent, no trail, and when I can't find anything it makes my pride feel pricked you feel me?"

Victor glanced up from the phone call as there was a knock on his office door, "Yeah, I know man. Send me over the files and I'll find anything I can. If this thing is in my territory causing so many problems then I will deal with the issue myself if I have to."

Ending the call he sat for a moment in silence and took a calming breath, "Yeah, who is it?"

The door was opened to reveal his brother. Looking like younger version of himself, Brian Margule was tall and built with the dark hair and eyes that had been in the males of their family for generations. The only thing that seemed out of place was the scowl that marred his brow.

"What do you need?" Victor asked trying to avoid this conversation.

"Oh don't give me that shit," Brian snapped with a growl, "Why haven't you been doing anything about this idiot that's trying to get in our line of fire?"

Reclining in his chair, Victor watched his younger brother carefully, "To be honest, I had more pressing issues happening with the Council making new plans for the territories. Alex can normally handle things like this on his own. He very rarely needs to tell me of these things at all. Why does it have a stick shoved up your ass though?"

Brian narrowed his eyes, "Alex didn't tell you all of the case I imagine then. Since if he had, you wouldn't be sitting here all calm and collected, you'd be calling the Council for help."

Victor growled, "I do not need the Council's help. You speak as though they would send any help in the first place. The Council intervenes when it feels they are being threatened, that is all, everything else that happens in the territories are all on us."

His brother shook his head, "Alright fine, but we have a serious problem. The victims are all women Vic, young women. The oldest being eighteen and the youngest barely twelve. I've been keeping tabs on the case files and its one big mess. It's like whatever is killing these girls is a phantom or something."

He rolled his eyes, "Doubt it, they're normally smarter than that."

When his brother looked at him in shock he just shook his head, "You're still young Brian, and it shows when you do things like this. I'm getting the files sent over and we'll start working the case alright? Just don't go snapping your fangs at innocents on either side or you and I will have problems, understood?"

_Case File Number 2087SF5. Patient is unresponsive to treatment and is actively seeking other forms of relief. Suicidal Attempts: 5 Patient is stripped all of clothing and placed in solitary confinement until further notice. Reported Night Terrors, Panic Attacks, Severe Emotional and Mental Trauma. Treatment unsuccessful. _

The executioner closed the screen of the laptop and sighed into the dark room. Breath came out as a puff of air into the chilled space as the creature cracked its neck. Finally being able to catch the link in this long and corrupt chain of events had been hard enough, but putting the lead into such a state was something the being hadn't wanted to happen.

The ancient needed what was in that mans' brain. Needed the information and the face of the man that was head of this large and growing organization before it was too late.

Growling into the darkness, the being pulled on the large heavy leather cloak and weapons that were used so often they had become a part of the creature that utilized them. The ancient needed to follow the killings and see if the trail ran cold yet again.

Time was running out and human blood was too precious to continue to spill.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"This city is going to hell."

Standing over the body of yet another tortured teenager, Alexander Craul was becoming sick of the city he called home. He crouched down next to the cold body and tried to keep his eyes and body from showing the signs of what he really was. The media was already here, the humans and civilians of his own world looking on as spectators behind the yellow tape.

Alex looked at the girl and reached out a glove covered hand to check the wounds that savaged her throat and shoulder. She'd bled out within minutes, and judging by the fear that was shadowed into her eyes, her soul was not going to be one that rested peacefully.

He sighed, moving his hands over her stiff limbs to inspect the other wounds that scattered her torso and legs. Compared to the other girls, this one put up quite a fight. He lifted one of her delicate hands off of the pavement and felt a growl try to roll out of his chest. Yeah, this human had put up quite a fight if the killer felt the need to cut her fingers off of both her hands.

He looked over as the coroner stepped in beside him, "Hey man, sorry to keep calling you out for these."

The human clapped palms with him and shook his head sadly, "Nothing to be done until this copycat is caught and put behind bars. I just hope it's before all of the young women in this town become extinct."

Alex stepped back as the coroner wrapped and put the girl onto his gurney, her long, dark hair fanning out from underneath the sheet. Just like the others, she had dark hair and light colored eyes that had looked to be contacts. The dark hair wasn't hers either, as if the killer was making them all look like some sick fantasy that he wanted to have over and over again.

As she was carted off, it made him wonder who the real object of the bastards' fantasy was, and if they would ever know what was her real identity.

Victor scowled at the massive case files that were strewn across his desk as he tried to find something that would help him find the killer. One would think that after twelve victims, with all of the bloodshed and torture inflicted that there would be some trace of the murderer left somewhere. He growled and tossed down the most recent file in his hands. He had felt a heavy grief run over him when Alex had called an informed him of the newest victim. He was getting tired of hearing about these killings, and he was even more nervous given what he had found when he'd arrived back at his lovely home not a few hours prior.

He had entered his home to know immediately that something was wrong. The balance in the atmosphere had been wrong, the occupants in his mansion too many than were supposed to be present. Racing up his staircase he had flung open his office door to find it in impeccable order. Cautiously, he had made his way over to his massive desk to find all of the files from the precinct had been taken, including every file on the occupants of his massive home.

As he grumbled over the recollecting thoughts, he glanced over the many copies of the cases that Alex had resent him to the piece of gold that had been left on his desk as if it were left as a token of gratitude for the files that had been taken.

Picking the piece up, he ran his thumb over the designs and narrowed his eyes. Whoever the hell it was poking around in his territory had another thing coming if they thought they could break into his home without being any repercussions.

As his phone began to chime in the dim light of his office, Victor huffed out a heavy breath before putting the device to his ear, "This is Victor."

"A pleasure Mr. Margule, I have been instructed to inform you that the Council wants any and all information on the recent matters disposed of, and the case closed. They have sent one of their own to continue the investigation as this matter seems to have become, pressing," the males voice said with an aristocratic lilt to the accent.

Victor sat up in his chair, "I apologize for any inconvenience to my Lords, but I have gotten a better grasp on the situation."

There was a pause on the line, "One moment Mr. Margule."

He waited for what seemed like hours until the call was again connected.

"Victor, I do not take kindly to having my orders being ignored," a familiar voice spoke through the line, "You will accept what has been decided and have nothing more to do with it."

He shook his head, "Axial, praise the Gods, what is going on?"

He heard his friend sigh, "Victor, being a member of the Council now, I am not allowed to give any leeway on what is happening. Please my friend, listen to me and listen good, stay out of this. Let who we sent take care of the situation and it'll be over and done with within the week."

As the call was cut off Victor chunked the cell across the room. Yeah, he was going to just sit back and let whoever the Council picked handle a case that was in his home, his territory? The old men were becoming senile in their late years.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_One week later._

Tucking the collar of his jacket in tighter, Alex waited in the dark street for Victor to arrive. He'd been standing out here for about an hour, waiting for the slow male to hurry his ass up before his froze to death on this chilly night.

Victor had mentioned that there was news he needed to be filled in on, so here he stood in the wee hours of the morning.

Hearing a tapping to his left, Alex grinned as he sensed his friend approaching.

"About time your ass showed up, it's freezing tonight," he said pulling his friend into a quick hug, "So, why the sudden rush?"

Victor shrugged and glanced around them, "Not really a rush, I've just been trying to get a lot of things straightened out and in order before I told you what was going on."

Alex scowled at the male, "What are you talking about? There hasn't been another killing in days, that's normally a good things man."

Those green eyes he'd know anywhere focused on his face calmly, "The Council sent one of their assassins out here to take care of it."

Alex knew he had visibly paled and his friend shook his head, "No, no, don't freak out. They sent the assassin to handle whatever has been slaughtering the human girls."

He threw up his hands, "Well damn Vic, just let the Council's dog handle it then why huh? Keeping us out of it if they're involved would be wise."

The guy growled, "This is my territory and nobody is going to be taking care of protecting it than me and my own. Besides, whoever they sent hasn't caught the bastard yet."

"How do you know?" he asked with a heavy frown.

Victor crossed his arms over his chest, "If I were just a decade older I could be on that Council remember? Don't mock my abilities to know when someone knew has entered my territory or not."

He held up his hands, "Fine, jeez, but come on Victor, let them handle it."

"I can't and you know that, so are you going to help my men and I or not?" Victor asked him with a growl.

Feeling anxiety bubble in his belly, Alex scratched the back of his head, "I believe this falls under peer pressure my friend, but yeah I'm in."

(Next Scene)

_Hmm, these boys are tactful, having all of the will yet none of the knowledge. I wonder what they must be thinking, going up against Council orders. That being said, I had done so centuries ago and every day since then has been more of a struggle to maintain my position in the circle. This city needed help, but at least the territory leader was an Elder. He was at least taking some care with his home, and now that he felt his pride being pricked he was going to try and beat me to my prize. Interesting. _

The Ancient watched the two males wonder into the shadows before returning the temperature to its normal conditions. Guests weren't wanted in what the being was about to do, and the Ancient certainly didn't want to kill them for finding anything out about what was going to unfold. This case was becoming far too complicated.

(Next Scene)

Victor's head snapped up as his ears searched the air for the screaming he had heard only seconds before. Alex stared out the office window as well and both of them listened for the shrieking cry.

As it sounded again, both males vanished into the darkness of the room and reemerged into the dim street. The night had grown quiet again, and he acknowledged his brothers arrival, as well as the other members he had recruited, with a nod of his head.

They were heading down the dismal street when a loud crack sounded in front of them all. A massive explosion took hold of a store building down the street. As they ran to see what had happened and if there were any survivors, Victor skidded to a halt and motioned for his men to do the same.

Standing in the flames that engulfed the large building was a cloaked figure. The being was facing them, the hood of the long coat covering any appearance of who this assailant might be.

The cowl on the figure tilted to the left as if the creature was trying to understand their presence before it bent down and lifted a body over its shoulder.

Victor shouted and started to run at the mysterious stranger, but the cloaked figure vanished in a cloud of smoke, taking the body of whoever had been screeching for help.

(Next Scene)

Shaking with fear, the man flinched when the bag over his head was jerked off suddenly. Tentatively he blinked open his eyes to find himself in a large room. Dark walls, no windows and a lone door in front of him like whoever was on the other side wanted him to see his fate every time it walked through the metal slab.

Taking a deep breath, he glanced around seeing a table over his left shoulder that was decorated with an assortment of weapons and tools that he didn't really want to think about. His hands were chained behind the chair he was placed in, linked to the chain around his ankles and appeared to be bolted to the floor.

As he tugged at the metal wrapped around his wrists he heard something jumbling the lock on the door. He faced the metal, trying not to show the fear that was coursing through his body as the slab was pushed aside to reveal a covered figure.

His captor stepped quietly into the room and closed the door, sealing them together inside. He judged the height at about five foot, six inches give or take, and that was if those hidden feet weren't covered in boots. The long leather coat covered the figure completely from head to foot, leaving everything in shroud and not revealing anything that would hint to the identity of the person hidden beneath.

"Who are you?" he asked trying to stall what he knew was going to come.

The hood shifted slightly as if the creature were watching him intently now. Gaining no answer, he waited patiently as the figure stepped behind him and he heard something being removed from that table he had seen earlier.

His body began to shake slightly, "Who are you? What do you want? Money? I can give you anything that you want."

Suddenly his jaw was clamped in a firm leather grip and his head was bent back as far as it would go. A grated voice came through the black hole of the cowl.

"Where are the other two men helping you slaughter the women in this city?" the tattered voice asked him calmly.

He laughed as best he could, "That's, that's what you want to know? Please, bitches die every day in this city and those young whores were asking for it."

The grip on his jaw intensified and he felt like his throat was being crushed.

"I will ask again," that voice sounded, "Where are the other two men?"

The pressure was moved off of his throat a bit and he frowned up at the hood, "Why not ask why we're killing the girls? That would seem more important don't you think?"

A leather clad fist came from the side and punched in square in the side of the face, throwing him sideways in the chair he was secured to.

"I already know why, I want to know who," it asked again.

He spit blood onto the floor and lifted his head as the figure stepped around in front of him, "You'll have to do better than that. You hit like a woman."

The figure lifted one gloved hand to reveal the large metal rod it held in a firm grip. Without warning, the figure lunged forward and swung the rod right at his shoulder. He screamed in pain as he felt his shoulder dislocate and his arm break. The rod connected with the same shoulder again, making his blood seep out of the many wounds that now savaged his right shoulder. He screamed again, leaning his weight forward, trying to get the pressure off of his arm.

"Please, please stop, they're out in the swamp. There's a cabin on the water," he said sucking in deep breaths and groaning, "Just please stop."

The figure stepped forward and fisted a hand in his hair, pulling his eyes up to look into blackness, "You beat and tortured thirteen innocent girls for your own sick gain and for ritualistic powers that a human could never possess to begin with," that voice said coldly, "I think you and I need to know each other a little bit more."

He screamed as loud as his lungs would let him as the end of the metal rod was jammed into the top of his thigh, slicing clean through muscle and tissue. He looked up at the figure as one of those gloved hands reached up and pulled the hood of the long cloak back. He stared in shock before screaming again as his own torture truly began.


End file.
